The Destroyer of Worlds
by GunnyStacker
Summary: Set in Zahariel's Roboutian Heresy Universe. Stahl Gorgas, a Space Marine of the the Death Guard comes with a strike force to aid the the Alpha Legion as the main thrust of Hive Fleet Leviathan approaches the planet of Alpha Tarsis. He doesn't know what they have will be enough to stand against the great devourer, but one thing he is certain of is that he will die on this world.
1. Prologue

**The Destroyer of Worlds**

 **Prologue**

509997.M41

Alpha Tarsis

The sky was a pale grey, the dense clouds blanketing from one horizon to the other over Erebus, capital city of the planet Alpha Tarsis. It spoke of the beginnings of a large front moving in from the west, and would likely bring snow, possibly within the hour, Stahl judged as he returned his gaze to the storm bolter cradled in his arms, anointing it with sacred cleansing oils while he calmly spoke the litany of arming. It was itself a sacred relic of the Death Guard, gifted only to marines of Destroyer squads worthy enough to wield it. Named Harvester, it got its name not from the claw-like billhook bayonet that hung beneath its maws, but for the number of bolts it could cast across a battlefield. It was a hungry beast, as ravenous for ammunition as it was for the enemies of mankind, so it had been equipped with twin feeds that ran out the double-barreled weapon's sides to a massive drum mounted on the backpack unit of Stahl's power armor.

In the distance, the whine of ancient jet engines grew louder on the brisk midday air.

"Battle-Captain Charon returns." Voiced Stahl's sergeant, Gordreth Nul, whose crane-beaked Medicus pattern helmet turned north.

Stahl cast his eyes left and skyward to the other side of the parade ground of the city's Schola Academy where they and a large portion of the Tarsan PDF had based themselves, Stahl seeing an ancient stormbird on its way down from the Battle-Captain's meeting at the command spire with the Alpha Legion commander and Inquisitor Kryptman.

"Squad, on your feet." Gordreth ordered.

It was not long after the craft had landed, that Stahl's squad along with the six other Destroyer squads and the two terminator-clad Grave Warden Squads were called together in a half-circle around a holographic map of the local area, but all eyes were on their respected Battle-Captain, and eldest currently serving space marine not interred in a dreadnought. He was a large astartes, even in terminator armor, and had clearly taken to their primarch's gene-seed well. The ceramite plates covering him were also thicker than average, the result of many campaigns and attempted assassinations by the minions of the ruinous powers. Most notably was the angular chest plate that protected the numerous augmetics that kept him alive. Yes, although Battle-Captain Charon had served for over sixteen centuries, the old commander of the Seventh Great Company had not reached that age without significant loss to himself, and was now permanently incased in his armor.

To the Imperium at large, Domagk Charon was a living legend even when belonging to one of the less celebrated space marine legions. His triumphs were mythic, his defeats at terrible cost to his foes, so storied were his deeds that several of his strategies had later been employed by other legions and Imperial Guard units. And so long had he served that the Battle-Captain was the first member of the Death Guard to wield the sacred power scythe of Mortarion more than once. That most precious relic was clutched in Charon's fist, the blade rising above the heads of all as the only banner the Death Guard would ever truly need.

"What's the situation, sir?" Sergeant Gordreth opened.

"The main thrust of the tyranid hive fleet will fall on this world as predicted. And while the rest of the company continues to gain ground on Miral II, they will not be able to travel here in good time before the xenos are upon us." Charon spoke, his voice ragged from years of use but had lost none of its potency. "A swarm counting billions in strength will crawl upon its soil in less than two days while we make our stand here with naught but a single strike company of Alpha Legionaries and two regiments of guardsmen to count for infantry."

"An average day for us then." Sergeant Phorane of Grave Warden Squad Grivnor spoke with grim resoluteness.

"Not entirely." Charon answered. "Harrowmaster Thias Herzog was able to call upon two knight houses to defend the city through pacts the Alpha Legion made in secret with them centuries ago. House Grendel and House Griffith lands upon the planet as we speak, bringing with them three-dozen Knights."

"Snakes are good for that at least." Muttered Haggard, the grenadier of Stahl's squad.

"The Harrowmaster has laid out our battleplan as such," Charon began, waving his hand to the hologram. "The capital we stand in is surrounded by a dense range of jagged mountains, making it nigh impossible for the tyranids to cross them without incurring extreme casualties in the process, leaving the narrow pass the rail line runs through as the only direct means for them to attack the city from. Other parts of the planet are too strategically unviable to defend against a swarm of this size, so a large number of civilians from cities across the continent are being transferred in by rail." Charon's voice turned grim. "There will not be enough room for all, nor those lying across the oceans. They all will die before the swarm."

Phorane then spoke up once more. "Pardon my interruption, Battle-Captain, did you say that Harrowmaster Herzog is in overall command?"

Sergeant Yarolgaar snorted. "If it even is him, which I greatly doubt." He added. "The Alpha Legion passes on names like they do their war gear."

"Alpha Tarsis was liberated by the Alpha Legion from the Ultramarines when it was still called Tarsis Ultra. And thrice have the sons of Alpharius defended it from their vile machinations." Charon answered in a firm tone as his crimson eye lenses swept across the assembled marines. "I will not take from them the honor to defend the world they fought to keep from the archenemy. Herzog recognizes the Death Guard's strength, and standing behind battlements, he knows will only serve to shackle us. That is why while House Griffith and the guard holds the pass, we, in conjunction with House Grendel and a formation of a Death Korps heavy armor, will strike the enemy's flank using a secreted tunnel system the Alpha Legion had created centuries ago following the Ultramarines' last attempt to reclaim Alpha Tarsis."

On the holo map, the grainy teal image moved to the outside of the mountain range, a large purple arrow directed at the entrance to the mountain pass that lead to Erebus. On the plains not far away, several white arrows marked with the heraldry of the Death Guard, House Grendel, and the Aquila for the Death Korps, sprung out of the ground and pushed into the flank of the tyranid swarm. Separately, a second formation of Death Guard and Grendel Knights pushed away from the attack further out into the plains.

"I will lead the main attack on the swarm. Destroyer squads Ignatius, Cytys, and Mortentaigne will deploy with three Knights outward onto the plains in hammer and shield formation with Exterminator and Castellum Mortis Land Raiders to bar any counter flanking maneuvers. Your objective will not be to hold your position, but to hold the enemy at bay so the main force can withdraw into the tunnels before pulling back yourselves. The tunnels will be collapsed section by section so the xenos will not be able to follow. If holding is not possible, you are to join the attack, and we will together push up the pass toward the frontlines." Charon paused, the silence giving his following words meaningful weight. "This attack is not meant to be a killing blow, merely to buy time for Inquisitor Kryptman to devise some way to kill the queen commanding the swarm. We will have time to prepare before we are called upon, so rest and ready yourselves for when that time comes."

As the meeting dispersed, Stahl lingered, looking back up to the sky as the first flake of snow melted upon his eye lens. Readying himself was something Stahl was struggling with. He could not shake the feeling deep inside, the sour angst gnawing at his very soul knowing what his fate would be. Stahl knew he would die on this world.


	2. Chapter 1: The Storm Cometh

**Author's Note: Well here is chapter one everybody, and I am terribly sorry for the long wait. After so much pressure to keep going on Guiding Fire and trying to force my way through writing it, I've decided to just work on what I want to. When I switched over to writing this, the words just flowed and everything came together really fast. The Roboutian Heresy is the brainchild of Zahariel and this story is written with his permission. Warhammer 40,000 belongs to Games Workshop. Enjoy!**

 **The Destroyer of Worlds**

 **Chapter 1**

 **The Storm Cometh**

Walking the halls of the schola, Stahl felt what could be described as nostalgia for his early days as a neophyte within the Pale Citadel on Barbarus. With naught much to do until the tendril's fall upon the planet, Stahl tried to busy his mind. He remembered walking the halls of the Citadel, looking with rapt wonder upon the sculpted reliefs depicting past campaigns from the Great Crusade and the seemingly gargantuan statues of the legion's heroic figures. The schola had some of those too, but there was a noticeable absence. It was with an irksome curl of the lip that Stahl saw no figures of his own legion.

Stahl pressed down his feelings of resentment deeper into himself and pushed onward, rounding a corner to a long, windowed hall with thick panes of glass to hold out the frigid night air and steadily descending curtain of snow. For several minutes, the only sound that filled the space belonged to Stahl's own footfalls and the electric whirs of his power armor. He tried to form a mental simulation of the upcoming deployment with the Imperial Knights, thinking on what breeds of tyranids would be rushing with saliva-slickened jaws to meet his cold wrath. How would he best sell his life in the face of their onslaught?

From a pair of ancient wooden doors five meters ahead came a drill abbot bearing dark, wrinkled skin and greying curled hair leading a procession of young students no older than ten years of age. Each of them carried the small autoguns the schola used in their instruction. Several of them gasped upon seeing Stahl, the abbot meanwhile simply made the sign of the aquila and hissed at the children to kneel, which they quickly did.

Stahl stopped before them. "I am Stahl Gorgas of the Death Guard's Seventh Great-Company." He greeted, if only to stave off his own boredom.

"Lord space marine, I am honored to bid you greetings this night." The old abbot spoke with a calm and reverent demeanor.

Stahl's eyes travelled downward to the children little taller than his knee, their faces conveying the same awe and fear Stahl had held when he had first set eyes on an astartes.

"I was observing your statues, they are masterfully sculpted." Stahl said hollowly.

The abbot nodded appreciatively with a subtle curve on his lips, ignorant or perhaps not to the inflection in Stahl's words, and spoke regardless. "Thank you m'lord, the long winters here give us time to perfect our craft."

"I notice there are no figures from the Death Guard."

It took a moment for the abbot to answer Stahl's insinuation and to blink away the brief look of anxiety in his eyes. "Not here, m'lord, these figures are of heroes from legions who came to our aid in the three great wars. Four times in all, our people faced certain doom at the hands of heretics and renegades. As Tarsans… our culture demands we remember such sacrifices, m'lord. I have had the honor of traveling to Eros Hive, where lies the Arch of the Ninth, dedicated to the Ninth Company of the World Eaters who saved the city from the mad hordes of the Black Consuls. This will be the first time Alpha Tarsis has had the honor of hosting thine own great legion, but I do believe there is a statue of Saint Garro down in the schola catacombs."

Stahl chose not to respond, instead moving to another topic. "Why do you walk the halls at this hour, should these students not be in their quarters resting?"

"We stand on the threshold of battle, and all must do their duty to defend our city and our schola." The abbot answered resolutely. If he meant to convince Stahl of his capability as a warrior with those words, he sorely failed.

"You mean to send these children out into the streets to fight?"

"If there is need, they will go and serve as soldiers of the God-Emperor."

"The xenos that invade your planet," Stahl began, "I have faced them many times in recent weeks and seen what black hell they bring with them. By sending these children out, you would only serve them as a meal unto the very jaws of the enemy." He said, eliciting a couple quiet young gasps.

"You, boy." Stahl directed, looking down at a young black-haired boy with a thin nose and green eyes.

"Y-yes m'lord?" the boy timidly answered.

"What is your name?"

"J-Janus, m'lord, my name is Janus Cartholius."

"What are lives, Janus Cartholius?"

"L-lives?" Janus stuttered.

"Yes," Stahl growled. "They must teach you something here. Now tell me, what are lives to our Emperor?" he said with no small amount of irritation.

"L-lives are the God-Emperor's currency m'lord." He spoke slightly louder, choking down his fear as he went on.

"And they must be spent well." Stahl finished the old proverb while the abbot quietly endured his condemnation. Stahl then turned and resumed his pace, catching the hopeless looks upon the children's faces. He stalled after a couple steps, and his lip curled in disgust. He could feel them, feel the weight of their pathetic downtrodden eyes upon his back. He hated them, hated their weakness, their fear, hated that he saw a part of himself in the fear they carried.

"If you children do find yourselves faced with the enemy," he began with a hard-edged, bitter tone. "Concentrate your fire on a single target and aim for the eyes or the softer flesh under the neck. Those will be the only areas your weapons might damage a menial opponent."

Stahl offered no words of departure before he began walking once more, the whole experience leaving a taste in his mouth more unpleasant than usual.

"Thank you, Lord Gorgas." He heard the boy, Janus, say from behind him.

Silence became his only companion once again. For some time, Stahl continued to wander down darker and less travelled halls, searching for some iconography that celebrated the Death Guard somewhere, eventually coming to a dead-end hallway illuminated only by what meager light shone through the windows. At the hallway's end was a door with a worn brass knob. Stahl opened it to one of the schola's classrooms on the other side. Like the hallway from whence he came, it was nearly devoid of light, the small amphitheater of wooden desks sitting off to the right covered with a fine layer of dust visible to Stahl's augmented eyes. He did not know why the schola did not utilize this room, nor did he much care as he approached the wide, partly frosted window on the far side of the classroom.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, and Stahl, for a time quietly watched. Innumerable as the stars, they were. Each wholly unique, never before nor again would another appear exactly like the thousands falling before his eyes. Stahl tried to follow the descent of one, but quickly lost it when it drew close to the ground, and it was gone. More unique individuals would come, on and on, and the flake he saw would never be seen again upon a million worlds.

Stahl's vox buzzed. _"Stahl,"_ he heard Haggard's voice. He was the last person Stahl wished to speak to at that moment.

" _Stahl!"_

With a resigned feeling, Stahl answered the hail. "What is it, Haggard?"

" _Battle-Captain wants all squads assembled in the main courtyard."_

This confused Stahl, the tyranids had yet to make planetfall, yet alone amass a force large enough to warrant the Death Guard's deployment just yet. "What for? Have the Alpha Legion come to their senses and allow us to join the Deathwatch in their hunt for lictors?"

" _Are you near a window?"_ Haggard asked.

"Yes, actually I was looking out one just now."

" _Yeah? Look closer, what else 'you see?"_

Stahl did not reply to the marine's sardonic remark and with greater scrutiny gazed out the window, finding nothing of particular note. "If there is some deeper meaning to your words, Haggard, they are lost on me."

" _Try looking up."_

Stahl did, again finding nothing at first. Then he saw a small mote of light, so faint he thought he'd imagined it at first, but it was soon joined by more and more when it finally dawned on him.

Mycetic spores.

"I'm on my way now." Stahl answered as he then turned and sprinted out the disused classroom in half a second.

….

Coming out onto the courtyard, the area was swarming with the Tarsan PDF rushing about in preparation for the coming onslaught as anti-air emplacements throughout the city roared out in defiance, seemingly refuting the blizzard with a skyward response of tens of thousands of fiery tracers by the second. Tarsan engines roared to life from the motor pool of Chimeras, Hellhounds, and the ubiquitous Angron main battle tanks not far from the main gates of the schola, the engines of the war machines already fighting desperately against the cold to keep their lifeblood of promethium alight in their burning hearts.

Opposite of the Tarsan armor was the Death Guard's own collection of vehicles, numbering twenty-eight land raiders of the Death Guard's unique Exterminator and Castellum Mortis patterns. With them, a venerable Punisher and Omega pattern of the Sicaran Battle Tank beside Charon's own command Mastodon, _Hellbreaker_ , whose massive ancient metal body dominated the formation above all else.

Nearby, squads of Stahl's battle-brothers were making their final preparations for combat, causing Stahl to subconsciously grip his storm bolter more tightly.

He found Sergeant Gordreth by the open rear hatch to the Mastodon along with the rest of his squad. Stahl heard the angry clamor of metal striking metal accompanied by a muddled curse from within the cavernous bay of the Mastodon, and shortly thereafter, Battle-Captain Charon appeared, carrying himself in a disgruntled manner as the eyes of the Death Guard fell upon him.

"Herzog has requested that the Death Guard hold our positions and allow the planetary defense forces and arbites deal with the xenos emerging from the spores raining down upon the city. He says he is worried that our rad and chem weapons would bear too great a danger to the city's populace and the PDF." He said with a firm collar of restraint over the outrage he clearly felt. "He also worries that if too many of us die tonight, there will not be enough to accomplish the operation to come."

A silence seconds long followed. "Are you all as insulted as I am?" Charon asked. "To think these lesser strains pose a threat to us? That we cannot show restraint, after nine worlds we have cleansed of the tyranids' disgusting taint while Kryptman conducts his cowardly exterminatus upon Chordelis? Do they think us so weak? Who has endured campaign after campaign of hellish warfare, nay, thrived upon it?"

"Death Guard." Stahl and his brothers answered.

"Who kicked the retched hides of the orks off Ironhelm when no other could?"

"Death Guard!" they answered louder.

"And who will be there to kick the Black Dragon in his scaly fething balls when he and his little damned newts come out from whatever warp-cursed rock they've been hiding under!"

"DEATH GUARD!" they roared.

"Damn right! We are going out there and we are going to _purge_ those soulless beasts from this sector of the city. Swap out your rad bolts for standard ammunition. Steal it from the Tarsans if you have to. Those with weapons that cannot easily exchange ammunition, jump in a tank and operate one of the tertiary weapons or rip off the heads of the enemy with your bare hands! We'll move out in four armored columns to cleanse the streets and meet at the Arch of Armillius due west and draw them all to us."

The Death Guard fell out, moving with purpose, and Sergeant Gordreth pointed to one of the Tarsan's Angron Battle Tanks, one fitted with a Vanquisher Cannon.

"Stahl, you and Harkov get on top of that thing and tell the crew to prepare to move out. We will provide escort, and we will need that gun if we encounter one of the larger brutes. Pyke, find ammo for Harkov's heavy bolter."

"Sir," Pyke rasped in answer with his damaged vocal cords and departed for the Tarsan's ammo dump in the schola's expansive garage.

Stahl and Harkov approached from the tank's rear as it was the only effective means of boarding with the anti-personnel mines the PDF had fitted on the sides.

The Angron was an unusual beast, made in haste following the betrayal of the traitor legions and the Leman Russ tank named after the primarch of the nine times damned Space Wolves was deemed heretically tainted by association, and so stricken from continued production. Rare few still existed within the Imperium, but many still served the ranks of the lost and the damned. It's replacement, the Angron, was an amalgamation of designs from far in Terra's war-torn past. It's hull was loosely derived from the Rhino, however it was far more cheaply made and small enough that it relinquished any ability to ferry any infantry within its armored carapace. A turret was fitted atop it, normally a dense, box-shaped thing sturdy enough to house a battle cannon. However, on more advanced and important worlds such as Alpha Tarsis, the turret was constructed with a more durable a pentagonal structure with sloping armor.

The vehicle had one obvious flaw in its design, that of the open-top turret by which the vehicle's exhaust was vented, making it exceedingly vulnerable to grenades and swarms of infantry. To counter this, Angron tanks were sometimes fitted with a pair of sponson-mounted heavy weapons as well as two pintle mounts on top of the turret for the tank's commander and a second at the rear of the turret to be manned by an exterior gunner.

In this tank's case, it was a storm bolter whose ammo, Stahl could use for his own needs.

The three PDF tankers were shocked upon seeing Stahl and Harkov with one spilling a cup of recaf over his thick dark blue winter uniform. "This tank is now under our direction, prepare to move out and get me all the ammo you have for this." Stahl commanded, pounding his fist on the small-handled version of his own weapon.

"Yes, lord space marine!" answered the one who had spilled recaf over himself.

As the tank crew went about their business, Pyke returned with several belts of heavy bolter rounds for Harkov, who set down his own relic weapon, the shoulder-fired heavy bolter _Garro's Fury_ , to take possession of Pyke's gifts.

In return, Harkov offered his reserve weapons, a power maul and bolt pistol to the squad's flamer marine.

"I will put them to good use, Harkov. Do try not to get killed upon this pitiful can."

The mute Harkov, offered a thanking thumbs-up before swapping the ammunition in his heavy bolter's hopper. Stahl himself detached the twin feeds from the sides of Harvester and inserted two drum magazines, making the weapon feel unbalanced in his hands, but it would do.

Ahead, the tall baroque gates to the schola parted open with reluctant sluggishness. Harkov hefted his heavy bolter upon his shoulder while the other members of the squad formed up around the tank.

"Prepare to advance!" Stahl barked.

At the maw of the square-toothed gate, two of the legion's Castellum Mortis land raiders took point with the Grave Warden squads in their terminator armor immediately behind, accompanied by the Battle Captain who held the scythe of their primarch aloft.

A thundering halt of the gate's ancient motors signaled the Death Guard to advance.

"Move out!" Stahl ordered, and the Angron Vanquisher began to lurch forward on its half-frozen treads. Behind Stahl, followed a formation of seven more Angron battle tanks, a set of twelve chimeras with a full company of infantry support, and two more Castellum Mortis land raiders bringing up the rear. Stahl dearly hoped the Tarsans wouldn't break at the sight of the enemy as so many planetary defense forces had in the past two weeks.

Into the broad, vacant streets, the first armored column advanced to the north. Behind, the second and third columns lead individually by the Sicaran tanks, with the final column being led by the formidable _Hellbreaker_.

"Shouldn't the Battle-Captain be in his battle-wagon?" asked Bulvald Blayka, the youngest of the squad and wielder of their plasma cannon.

"He doesn't need it." Gordreth answered.

Pyke chose that moment to join in. "Rumor is he hates the thing. Doesn't like being marshaled around like the Ecclesiarchy does with their cardinals."

"The Battle-Captain has reasons his own." Gordreth interdicted. "Pyke, do not give wind to rumor, they are the shadow of lies and we do not speak lies of our honored Battle-Captain."

"Yes sergeant, speaking my mind is all. On this icy mud-ball, one is liable to freeze solid if you don't keep one part of your body moving."

Lefvrok Morronos, wielder of the squad's Proteus-pattern missile launcher chuckled. "Pyke, your mouth is like Stahl's storm bolter, once it gets going, it never stops."

"Yeah," added Haggard. "You don't get _paid_ in this legion to gossip like a maid."

"We don't get paid." Stahl stated, feeling irked at being forced to listen to this conversation.

"Oh yes I do." Haggard responded pridefully. "I get paid everyday in ammunition to spend on the enemies of our Emperor. No better pay in the galaxy."

"I will have to agree with you there, Haggard." Said Gordreth. "But stay focused, we know the enemy may strike at any time."

It didn't take long following that conversation that they encountered the first termagants. They came scurrying down from the rooftops like an angry hive of Barbarusian Bellows Ants. Las-fire and bolts made short work of the xenos cannon-fodder and Stahl even heard a few of the Tarsans speak jovially at this pitiful victory. They knew nothing of what death was set upon their world.

The mood was broken when came a true swarm came from around the corner of an upcoming intersection, comprised of Hormagaunts and a few commanding Warrior-forms at the center of the swarm. The land raiders halted and opened up with their hurricane bolters, sweeping them back and forth while the Grave Wardens barraged them with phosphex grenades. More poured down from the rooftops and every gun in the column joined in the fray. Stahl and Harkov knelt back to back, spraying down the tyranids clinging to the sides of the buildings and sending their ravaged corpses tumbling to the frozen rockcrete below.

A Hormagaunt leaped upon an adjacent Angron, decapitating its commander with a swift sweep of its jaws. A few of the Tarsans swore at the grisly sight, forgetting their training in their terror, however, Haggard was numb to such scenes and executed the beast with a shot to the head of depleted uranium flechettes from his shotgun, sending it tumbling off the tank.

Ahead, the Battle-Captain stood in between the two land raiders and blasted any xenos that drew too close with his wrist-mounted volkite charger, a precious piece of archeotech left over from the Heresy. It turned any unfortunate tyranid into a fiery plume of ashes as one tyranid warrior discovered. Its symbiotic weapon fell at Charon's feet, writhing like a grub until he brought the hilt of his primarch's scythe down upon it in a splattering of green ichor.

Harkov tapped upon Stahl's pauldron with his elbow, a signal the squad was familiar with.

"Harkov reloads!" he shouted.

"Lefvrok, cover him!" Sergeant Gordreth ordered.

It was in that unfortunate moment, that Stahl's weapon too, went dry. He let out an irritated grumble and grabbed at the tank's commander and shoved him into the vehicle's heavy stubber. "Shoot them, I'm reloading!"

The tank commander began wildly spraying the living waterfall of termagants, injuring, many but killing few with such imprecise aim.

"Controlled bursts, you fool! Do you wish to kill them or become their next meal like your friend did?"

"I'm trying, there are too many!" he screamed in near panic.

Stahl growled as he slammed the second drum home and resumed firing, trying to make up for the commander's inefficiency, but many termagants and hormagaunts had descended into the column and began mauling the troopers viciously. Pyke strode forth on the left, bringing Harkov's power maul upon the skull of a hormagaunt followed by gutting a termagant with a trio of bolts. He was soon joined by Sergeant Gordreth with his chainfist and plasma pistol reaping a bloody toll of their own.

" _Tanks!"_ Battle-Captain Charon shouted over the vox. _"Target the buildings at the intersection, bring them down on their heads!"_

"Gunner, target!" the tank commander shouted to his crew. "Hab-block on the left, high explosive!"

"Loaded!"

"On the way!" the gunner announced, and the Vanquisher cannon boomed out its fury. The tank rocked beneath Stahl's boots and his ears rang through his helmet, but it did not stop him. The shell hit the building with three others in a cacophony of destruction. A grey billowing cloud of rockcrete spilled over the swarm along with countless tons of broken building.

"Again!"

"On the way!"

Six times the cannons fired, turning the street into a great landslide and the rush of tyranids began to subside. The casualties were negligible, sixty-three of the PDF troopers had been slain, but none of the Death Guard's own.

" _Advance!"_ Charon ordered. _"The second column approaches the Arch of Armillius and requires our support. Load the wounded into the chimeras quickly. Leave the dead."_

The land raiders moved forward, using their impressive weight and hefty dozer blades to carve a path to move left through the intersection for the rest of the Tarsan armor to follow.

Engagements from then on followed a similar pattern and three times such swarms as the one they faced initially were rebuffed with gradually fewer casualties, like wheat being cut from the chaff. Stahl remembered being told of the capability the PDF of Alpha Tarsis had displayed in the third war for the planet. That had been in M36, little more than a century after the second incursion of the successors of the Ultramarines, when the veterans from that war had been around to keep the young blood from falling into complacency. It seemed that the Alpha Legion had allowed the fat to grow and the once capable Tarsans to become lazy in their training.

Stahl could discern the buzzing of the Sicaran Punisher's massive rotary cannon over the din of the anti-aircraft guns, they were getting close. Approaching at a three-way intersection, the land raiders bared right where a massive swarm was said to be coming from, while the rest of the column turned left toward the plaza where the massive triumphal arch stood a kilometer in height.

It was, to Stahl's knowledge the last of twenty such Triumphal Arches on Alpha Tarsis, one in each city where a major battle was fought during the first war for the planet. This one commemorated the Alpha Legion Harrowmaster and so-called 'Bane of the Second Founding,' Armillius Dynat. Stories of his campaign against the successors of the Ultramarines were as numerous as they were conflicting. Some said he was a master of armored warfare, using complex and enigmatic schemes to surround and crush his enemies while he observed from afar. Others said, that Dynat actively took part in the battles at the frontlines in nothing more than a Predator tank, and used it to tally hundreds of kills on traitor marine armor, including a purported heretek Imperator titan. By far the most preposterous, was that he managed to impersonate a chapter master of one of the warbands for months, steering the armies of the 'Carrion Crow' through disinformation and infighting until the Corvo was driven into a fervor and demanded a council to be had in this very city to sort out his war. There, the Harrowmaster sprung his trap, and killed seven of the chapter masters with a deadly poison, save for Tulian Aquila, the Black Raptor of the Doom Eagles who managed to flee in defeat with his chapter of pirates. Such stories were as improbable as they were quite likely true to some extent when concerning the Alpha Legion.

The Angron battle tanks rolled into the sweeping baroque plaza, the Arch dominating the sky with its snarling hydras with traitor-in-maw and sunken reliefs of the old war's heroic deeds illuminated by tracer-fire and cannon-flash. Standing victorious atop it was a great statue of Armillius Dynat, posed with his dragon-headed warhammer and power-sword above the seven bodies of Corvo's war council.

"Enemy right! Three-hundred meters, load canister!" the commander barked and the turret began to swivel toward the horde of xenos and the vanquisher cannon heralded the arrival of the first armored column to the beleaguered second. Well perhaps not beleaguered, Stahl corrected himself in his thoughts. Any formation bearing _Indominus Ultor_ , the Sicaran Punisher of the Death Guard, could hardly be called such.

That very tank rolled into appearance and laid down its judgement upon the encroaching horde of xenos with the fury of Barbarus alive in its engine. Fragments of rock were tossed a dozen meters into the air in a cloud of dust and toxic alien blood. Not even their piercing screeches could overcome the roar of Indominus Ultor's cannon.

The Angron battle tanks continued to fire in a steady beat, joined by the battle cannons of the second column at the top of the plaza as they rolled up the broad steps of the crepidoma that ringed around the arch. Around stood decorative statues of looming height even when compared to an astartes. They all belonged to the many heroes of the first war, be they astartes, guardsmen, sisters of the Hospitallers, to even the lone courageous civilian. It took a full five minutes for them to join up with the second unit at the top, such was the scale of the monument's base. The Angron tanks at this point had rotated their turrets completely around to fire upon the swarm that had been forecast to come from the same avenue that they had arrived from. A withering gale of fire was laid from the hurricane bolters of the four Castellum Mortis land raiders who backed up the plaza steps in a retreating wall of ceramite and adamantium.

 _"All troops, dismount into cover! Armor, create a defense line!"_ Charon barked. _"The land raiders will soon widen their formation, and when that happens, the Angrons will advance thirty meters and position themselves between the gaps in their firing lines. Chimeras will hold at the top and provide a base of fire."_

Stahl hopped off the left side of the tank while Harkov took the right. Around, the PDF took cover behind the thick pedestals of the statues while others were ushered into volley lines for what good it would do them. Stahl himself only had two more drums of standard bolter ammunition left until he was left with his plasma pistol and force sickle. Poor weapons to bear against an enemy that was endless in numbers and thrived in close-quarters combat. Yet he was unable to draw from the vast reserve of deathfire ammunition held in the heaping drum on his own back because of the Alpha Legion's petty concerns. This world would soon be dead like the many others devoured by the tyranids, its population already a sliver of what once was. The Death Guard had been called here and should be allowed to conduct war as they always had, and as they always would.

The cannon fire was unrelenting from the tanks, pounding like war drums, added to by a steady cadence of the varying guns of the chimeras, PDF and the Death Guard. On and on they poured hot death upon the endless hungering tide with no signs of it abating. Stahl's storm bolter quickly consumed the last of its standard ammunition, and he was forced to draw his plasma pistol, but that was ill-suited to such continuous fire at long range. He might as well be chucking rocks in the hope of giving one a concussion.

Mycetic spores began falling at the base of the plaza, setting more lesser bio-forms against them, as well as more advanced and deadly ones such as Raveners and Carnifexes. Stahl's pistol hissed on the verge of overheat for the third time as the swarm began to envelope the land raiders, even as they continued to fire. The PDF began a disorganized retreat that was more of a rout back toward the chimeras. But the Death Guard held, in stoic silence they continued to fight and support the retreat of the Tarsans. Next, the Angron tanks began to fall. Their open-top turrets becoming dinner plates for the hormagaunts. The Angron Vanquisher Stahl and Harkov had ridden was swarmed as it reversed, and Stahl saw its crew attempt to bail once their anti-personel mines detonated. The hexagonal driver's hatch on the bow slope flung open, but before the man could even attempt escape, the head of a termagant dove in. The commander, gunner, and loader rushed out the turret, firing laspistols behind them with no thought for aim. The loader's body fell like a ragdoll off the tank after a razor-edged talon took off his head. The gunner was impaled in the back by several talons and subsequently quartered by two hormagaunts. The commander, saved by the deaths of his comrades, nearly escaped but died at Stahl's feet when a shot from a fleshborer cut him down.

That was it, Stahl had enough of this idiocy. He would not die in such a cowardly way. Holstering his plasma pistol, he reconnected the feeds to _Harvester_ and opened fire.

A sea of white radioactive phosphex began to spread as the hungry flames spread across the moving tide of xenos who screamed in agony as the radioactive deathfire finally halted the advance. Out of the mass of flames and melting xenos flesh, the land raiders reappeared, battered but not beaten. Stahl hosed down the two closest to him of tyranids still clinging to their hulls before resuming fire upon the bulk of the swarm.

" _Stahl, what are you doing?"_ Gordreth voxed.

"Fighting as a marine of the Death Guard. I don't intend to be wasted like this."

"He's right." Pyke echoed and advanced, abandoning Harkov's weapons for his rad flamer and joined in.

" _Both of you, cease fire and fall back!"_ Gordreth barked. _"Reinforcement will be here soon!"_

"I do not intend to die amongst the ranks of mere mortals. We have the tools to win this in our very hands, let us use them!"

" _There are too many civilians for rad weaponry. You are defying orders, Stahl."_

"Then the Night Lords shouldn't have fucked off before we got here if they care for the lives of mortals so much."

An explosion of a miniature blue-white nova interrupted them and then followed by half a dozen more. _Stella Vastador_ , the Sicaran Omega tank destroyer had arrived.

A hand landed on Stahl's shoulders and harshly threw him back several meters. When Stahl regained his senses, he saw it was none other than Charon himself who had done it.

"The third and fourth armored columns are here. Fall back, marine." Commanded Charon with a harshness that filled Stahl with a mix of shame and deeply repressed outrage.

"Carnifex!" one of the Tarsans shouted and two of the hulking brutes appeared out of the burning tyranid frontline. One overturned a land raider before setting its eyes upon the Battle-Captain. It charged with a bellowing roar from its dripping jaws.

Charon met it by blasting its right leg off with his volkite charger and the thing tumbled, but not before swiftly striking out with one of its massive scythe-shaped talons. Charon parried it with _Silence_ , the decades of experience using the sacred relic-blade made clear as he brought it around in the same stroke under the Carnifex's neck to decapitate the beast. The second Carnifex came, and Charon sent the war-scythe flying to impale through its skull. It too fell, and in its death-throes tried to crush the oldest of the Death Guard with its bulky claws as he came to reclaim the signature weapon of their primarch. Volkite rays hotter than the surface of the sun evaporated such nuisances and again _Silence_ was in Charon's hands.

Stahl raised himself as the Battle-Captain trudged back his way, periodically vaporizing burning tyranids that overcame the wall of deathfire. They looked at one another, having an unspoken conversation that left Stahl feeling more embittered than earlier and fell back to the chimeras with the rest of his squad.

More carnifexes came, but were hardly capable of defending against the mighty plasma cannons of _Stella Vastador_ , nor were they equipped to breach the hull of the great Mastodon, _Hellbreaker_ that plowed throughout the tyranid swarm unhindered by the dozens of corpses being crushed beneath its treads. As the artillery finally began to fall, Stahl knew that this small battle would soon be over.

 **Author's Note: I originally intended the Angron Battle Tank to be a "fixed" version of the Leman Russ, which I've never liked from a visual standpoint, combining the best elements from historic WWII tanks. The armor of a Panther, the ease of maintenance of an M4 Sherman, the tank killing capability and speed of an M18 Hellcat. But that just isn't 40K, so instead I decided putting in some of the worst attributes of those tanks to balance it out. The fuel system of the Panther, the armor of the M4 Sherman, and the open turret of the Hellcat. And throw in the driver's hatch from the T-34 for good measure. There are rare, more resource intensive patterns of the Angron, such as the Mars Pattern, that fix all those problems and those tanks are almost as revered as a baneblade in their effectiveness.**


End file.
